


Little Lion Man

by QueerlyCute



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerlyCute/pseuds/QueerlyCute
Summary: Fresh back from the American leg of TATINOF, Dan and Phils relationship is straining, but a lack of communication and both their insecurities are starting to tear them apart.





	Little Lion Man

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, this is unfinished and I have no idea when or if it will be.
> 
> Title comes from the song Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons.

  
_~ October, 2009 ~_  
  
The wholly depressing, but still homely atmosphere of the inner Manchester bar was too familiar to Phil. He was sitting in the corner he claimed months ago, sipping at his too-strong gin and tonic while swapping between making small talk with Matt, his friend and bartender, and thinking about his insubstantial and dwindling career as a YouTuber. Just a normal Saturday, really.  
“You know, you’re not gonna get anywhere moping around here every spare second you ‘ave, Lester.” Matt’s thick Welsh accent cut through his wallowing, looking at him with a mix of amusement and pity (more of the former).  
  
“Piss off Matt, I practically give you your paycheck, you wouldn’t kick me out if I stabbed someone.” Phil tipped back the rest of his drink and looked around the dingy bar. It wasn’t the most lavish joint in Manchester, but with warm lighting and soft radio melding into the background of different conversations it was still a haven for him to hide in when the world became too much, which seemed to be most nights. Sometimes when Phil comes here, he just sits and listens to the different stories and events the people would share, the memories that people were making. Sometimes he feels immense jealousy, angry that so many people around him could be happy and spend time with their friends, but mostly he was just interested in the stories he could make up for the strangers’ conversations. It was a nice distraction, a momentary transportation to a different life where he was merely a narrator, taking in the dialogue and creating his own context.  
  
As Phil scanned across the dimly lit room for the night’s entertainment, his attention caught on a boy near the other end of the bar. His chocolate-coloured hair was swept to the left in a straight fringe, his eyes matching in shade and standing out against the soft, youthful features. The warm light made his skin glow with a golden aura, and caught on his brass ear piercings. He wore a white, short-sleeved button up, and if Phil leaned far back enough he could see how the sinfully tight black skinny jeans glued to his thighs. His delicate fingers were wrapped around a tall glass, filled with some bright pink liquid that looked more sugar than alcohol. The strangest part of this boy wasn’t his choice of drink, though. While he looked barely a day over eighteen, and didn’t fit in with any of the usual cliental of the bar, he didn’t look like he felt out of place in the slightest.  
  
“Hey, Matt, can you give that guy over there another drink once he’s finished his? Put it on my tab?” Phil asked, shuffling in his seat to fix his shirt and adjusting his hair.  
“Ain’t he a bit young for you to be buying ‘im a drink? I carded ‘im, only a few months over eighteen.” Matt worried, pouring Phil another drink of his own.  
“It’s perfectly legal to talk to a beautiful boy, Matthew. Now if you would excuse me.” And with that, Phil was out of his seat and on the way to the ‘beautiful boy’ down the bar.  
  
_~ July, 2016 ~  
_  
  
Dan had been staying at his parents’ house for the past four days but was more than happy to be coming home early. His mother had gotten stomach flu during his visit, and they had decided she’d be more comfortable without him there. He did love his parents, but Dan also missed his husband.  
  
They’d been stuck together on a bus for the last three months, and the sleepless nights and constant stress lead to using each other as punching bags to let out their emotions, a technique that only lead to more fights and stress. The residual tension was still obvious once they returned to London, so Dan thought that maybe a little break could fix the cold shoulder they seemed to both be giving each other.  
  
The taxi stopped outside their London apartment, and Dan jumped out before he could reconsider his decision.  
“Keep the change sir,” he exclaimed, walking into the cool night. When he got to their apartment door, he was startled to find it unlocked, as most of the time they keep it fastened. It wasn’t that he and Phil were _paranoid_ , but having someone stalk them to their home address wasn’t exactly unprecedented, and it was rather late on a Friday night.  
  
“Phil?” Dan called, turning on the light in the hallway. He heard no answer, so kept venturing into the eerily quiet apartment. A strange noise from upstairs broke the dense silence surrounding Dan, sounding almost like a strangled and muffled plea. Terror shot through him, suddenly assuming the worse for his husband.  
  
Shaking slightly, he looked around for a weapon, finally settling on an empty blue glass vase, and stepped silently up the stairs. As he walked up, he saw the kitchen light on and heard heavy, laboured breathing. Gasping. Is that Phil? What have they done to him? Who's doing this to him? Dan’s thoughts were suddenly cut short by a thick, throaty moan he recognised all too well. Could Phil be? No. Needing to prove his frantic mind wrong, he ran into the kitchen, only to drop the blue glass ornament in shock. Stood in front of him was his husband of just over a year, clad only in a pair of black boxers, his arms wrapped loosely around the torso of another shirtless man, whose lips were attached to his neck.  
  
“Phil. Who the fuck is that?” he spat, blood running cold. The men disconnected quickly, untangling long limbs, faces displaying mixes of shock and terror. Alongside Phil stood a rather tall (yet still shorter than Dan) brunet, with stormy grey eyes and red, swollen lips. He looked between the two men before running out of the room without a second glance.  
“Phil,” Dan repeated, his harsh tone betrayed by the break in his voice.  
“I thought you were gone for another day-” Phil started, before being cut off by Dan’s shouts.  
“Oh, that just makes this whole thing fucking better doesn’t it, Phil? So you wouldn’t have fucking been making out with another man if I wasn’t coming home tonight, is that it?” Dan's voice was growing proportionally in decibels and hysteria, tears falling from his face in rageful waterfalls.  
  
“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be making out with another man if you acted like you actually loved me every once in awhile!” he countered, regretting it immediately as the silence filled the kitchen, sending him back to their past. Dan knew he had seen this all before. It was like deja vu, the way tears splashed against the cold kitchen floor, echoing the fractured beat of both of their broken hearts. He always thought that this feeling, this undeniable despair, would only haunt his nightmares, but it was all Dan could comprehend out of the entanglement of emotions ricocheting around his mind.  
  
They’d sworn to never fight like they did back then. Back when Dan was depressed and stupid, and Phil was young and reckless and they both thought they had all the answers. It was trivial, really, what their fans referred to as ‘2012’. The actual fight was over something stupid and petty, the amounting pressure from over the months needing a release. They’d promised after they made up that they would never let a fight like that happen again, never let the complicated emotions overcome their love for each other. They had both made that promise four years ago, but you couldn’t ignore how Phil’s lips were slightly bruised, and the red nail marks running down his back.  
  
The kitchen was silent except for their heavy breathing, punctuating every sob-like gasp coming from Dan. The tension could be cut with the broken glass still lying on the ground, neither abandoning each other's violent stare.  
“I’m sorry,” Phil choked out, his eyes morphing from harsh to pleading.  
“You're fucking sorry, are you? Well that fucking fixes everything, doesn’t it? Who needs marriage counselling when you know how to say fucking sorry?” Dan spat, the calm venom of his words piercing Phil.  
“You know I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it would’ve hurt you, Dan.” He contended, stepping towards Dan, only to have him take two steps back, skilfully avoiding the mess on the floor.  
  
“No, bullshit. You fucking knew this would hurt me you just thought I wouldn’t find out. Unlike you, I was actually trying to save our relationship for some reason other than our fucking careers.” Dan argued, voice getting harsher with every word.  
“Look I know I fucked up-” Phil started,  
“You really fucked it up, this time, Phil.” He interrupted, walking out of the kitchen.  
“Dan wait,” Phil called, following him into the hall and up to his bedroom where Dan proceeded to pull out a suitcase and started to throw things in, ignoring the clothes on the floor that he knew belonged to neither of them.  
“No, you fucking wait, Phil. I'm done. Get your shit together, but until then,” Dan sighed, meeting Phil's eyes. “I’m done.”  
  
He pushed past Phil into the lounge, picking up the things that belonged to him that he couldn’t live without.  
“What do you mean you're done? You can't be done, we’re Dan and Phil, I love you, and you love me. That’s how it has always been, for seven years now, please!” Phil cried. He sounded desperate, like he actually needed Dan there to stay sane. Dan nearly fell for it too, until he remembered the slim frame of another man pushed against his husband and the soft noises of pleasure falling from his mouth.  
“Yeah, we’re Dan and Phil. What does that mean to you other than a brand name, a book title, gaming channel, a stage show, an income?” Dan asked, his tired eyes bearing into Phil’s pleading ones. As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t find an answer.  
“That’s what I thought.” Dan chuckled, but it wasn’t the laugh that Phil was used to, that Phil loved. It was a sorrowful, bitter chuckle, oozing with regret and disdain. He pushed passed Phil again, this time with his phone, keys, and a small blue suitcase.  
“Don’t call me.” He said with faux calm, taking a deep breath and composing himself for the outside world.  
“Dan it’s nearly two A.M. I’m not letting you leave now,” Phil stated, trying to catch up to his (ex?)husband.  
  
“And you care since when?” he laughed bitterly, a coping mechanism Phil recognized all too well. Dan sighed, looking around the flat he used to call home. It tainted now, stained with new bad memories and new sins. He looked back to the confused and desperate face in front of him for the last time, then took the final step out of the flat and closed the door behind him.  
  
~~~  
  
Stupid. He was so so fucking stupid! Phil couldn’t understand what possessed him to cheat anymore, to break the promise he made to Dan. The look of utter betrayal on Dan's face was seared into Phil's mind, and he replayed it over and over again like a cruel form of self punishment. But not even forcing himself to watch his lover's face cycle through confusion, fear, and broken-hearted hurt managed to quench his burning guilt.  
It made sense at the time, of course; Dan apparently didn’t want him anymore, so why would he care if Phil found someone to keep him warm for the night? _You’ve really fucked it up this time, Phil_ Dan’s cold voice replayed in his mind as he stared blankly at the closed door. It's too late to rectify things, now, even if Dan hadn't originally planned to leave Phil.  
  
He was pushed from this mindset by a buzz in his pocket, a text from the last person he wanted to hear from then.  
  
_To: Phil  
From: Logan  
everything alright? can i come back? ur hubby seemed so pissed lmao. deserves it tho xo_  
  
Phil felt sick. He felt physically ill in that moment. Disgusted in himself, in his actions, and this man who thought he had the right to laugh at Dan. _His_ Dan. In a sudden fit of rage, his phone ended up at the top of the stairs and his fist met plaster with a loud thud and a quaking shudder from the wall itself. The fans knew many things about Phil, but they never knew how impulsive he could be, and they definitely didn’t know about his anger problems, and his other mental health issues. Really, not even Dan knew all of it.

They thought Dan was the one with the dark parts of his brain, and he was just a cinnamon roll, an angel among humans, when really all he was at that moment was an infidelious excuse of a man, with a now broken hand, phone, marriage, and a mind wandering down a familiar dark path. How could he be so selfish? God, how could he think that Dan didn’t love him?  
  
The worst part of it all was Phil knew it was his own fault. He couldn’t place the blame on Dan or another outside party, he couldn’t even say that it was a mutual and thought out decision, because it wasn’t. It was entirely his fault if this ruined them, he was the villain behind the broken heart and the one to blame. With this thought in mind, all he could do was fall to the ground and sob. Whether it was for Dan’s heart or his own, Phil wasn’t quite sure, but either way, the tears weren’t stopping anytime soon.  
  
~~~  
  
Stupid. He was so fucking stupid! Dan couldn’t see how he thought he could fix it all with a magic twirl of his wand and things would be back to normal. He knew there were underlying issues with them, and yet he thought that he could just run away and make everything better again with a little ‘time out’ and ‘space’ for both of them.  
  
He walked along the cold footpath, holding his jacket closer while cursing himself for not putting on a thicker one. It might be summer, but for some reason the weather decided to mirror his emotions and let the wind pick up. Dan wiped his eyes and pulled out his phone, both thankful and upset that Phil had followed his request and hadn’t tried to talk to him yet. He considered calling Louise for a moment, but thinks better of waking Darcy and her only to be told to go back and talk to Phil, which Daniel wasn’t doing doing anytime soon, thank you very much.  
  
As his feet continue to fall against the cold path, the street lights start to grow more common. _I’m heading to town, then_ Dan thinks, silently thanking his feet for knowing where to go. The small case still dragging behind him, he turns a corner to see the park he and Phil used to frequent before the tour. _When we were still in love_ his bitter mind adds. Across the small lake in the park, Dan dimly made out the flashing signs of a bar. It’s almost perfect, the way the night has played out. His marriage is ruined, his lover doesn’t love him back, and he’s got nowhere to stay for the night. Why not get piss drunk?  
  
Dan settled himself in the darkest corner of the bar, shoving his case under the ledge next to his feet. While he might need a few drinks, he certainly doesn’t need to be recognised by anyone. With his head slumped into his hands and his heart on the ground, all he could do was think _how on earth did things end up like this?_ The sound of a glass being pushed across the lacquered wood bar and a thick irish accent woke him from his wallowing. Looking up, he saw a half-filled glass of whiskey, and an incredibly attractive man polishing a glass with a white rag. He looked, well, godlike.  
  
A ginger quiff, falling slightly in front of black wire glasses hiding steely green eyes, the orange subble that decorated his chiseled features, all leading to the those lips, which looked pink, and plump, and like pure sin but god were they enticing. Suddenly Dan remembered he had been addressed, and pulled his eyes back those piercingly green ones.  
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked, still slightly distracted. The bartender smirked, before replying.  
“I said it looks like you’ve had a long night and could use drink, but it seems you were distracted somewhat.” his smirk remaining as he turned to put the glass he was cleaning back down and pick up another. Dan took a sip of the drink in front of him before grimacing. He looked back to those inquisitive eyes, before deciding _fuck it. If Phil can, I can._  
  
“I do appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Bartender, but I’m much more of a vodka tonic sort of guy” he flirted, finishing the whiskey in one mouthful. Mr. Bartender chuckled, before picking up the empty glass and washing it.  
“Well, I won’t be so generous with this vodka tonic, Brown Eyes, but the whiskey is on the house.” he spoke, the smooth accent like music to Dan’s ears. “I have to serve people, but I’ll be back with your vodka tonic soon.” Mr. Bartender winked, before sauntering off to people further down the bar, leaving Dan to think over the choice he’s made. It was definitely a rash decision, and probably wouldn’t end well, but Dan couldn’t help but be hypnotized by those green eyes. Besides, sometimes change is good, especially from midnight black to flame red, and from ocean blues to forest greens.  
  
~~~  
  
Dan wasn’t perfect, no, he was nowhere near perfect. Back when a fight or rough sex were the only ways to relieve the pressure of being in a closeted public relationship Dan was the one screaming his lungs off, throwing things across the hall, anything to get his point across and tension out. He was a whirlwind of contradictions on his best days, from sitting in his lover’s lap to jumping up in a fit of rage at the wrong word.  
  
It was a minefield to navigate their relationship for a while, until the fated day of the blow up, where just like a shaken bottle of coke, it was an overflowing mess, but after the sticky residue was cleaned their relationship was calm again, almost like it was appeased to some sick and twisted god of torturous pain.  
  
Looking back though, it was never something Phil started. He wasn’t an innocent party at all, but his explosions tended to have a calm taking off, filled with stoic silences and over-regulated breaths. It always took Dan’s dramatic and trigger happy emotions to overflow before he exploded. The destructive catalyst to the perfect experiment, it took Dan’s lightning to release Phil’s thunder.  
  
~~~  
  
Soon, the Bartender returned with a glass and the rag over his shoulder, as he began preparing Dan’s drink in front of him.  
“Lemon or lime?” he asked, glancing up to Dan as he silently poured the liquor mix.  
“How about lime, to match a certain someone’s eyes?” he replied coyly, giggly slightly. Mr. Bartender just grinned, then gave Dan his drink. He took a sip, keeping eye contact, humming appreciatively and before placing the glass down.  
“Perfect. Do you mix drinks that good for all the sad boys who come in at two am on a Friday night?” he asked playfully, stirring his drink gently with one finger on the straw, alternating between watching the ice dance around the glass and looking up at Mr. Bartender through his eyelashes with the best doe-eyed looked he could muster.  
“Only the ones as gorgeous as you, Brown Eyes. What’s got you so down anyway?” he asked, cleaning the bar absentmindedly.  
  
“You sure you wanna hear it, Mr. Bartender?” he nodded, so Dan continued. “I came home from a holiday to my husband snogging some shirtless brunet in the kitchen, his clothes all over our bedroom floor. The only explanation I got was ‘I thought you were gone for longer’. So I packed up my shit and decided to get drunk and flirt with the barman. Fucking brilliant.” his laugh was as bitter as the drink he was finishing. Mr. Bartender had the decency to hide his pitiful look as he made Dan and himself another drink. They were both silent for a moment before another drink was pushed in front of him.  
“Y’know he’s an idiot, right? Not just for thinking there was any brunet to compare to you, but for thinking it was ok to break your heart. I’ve only known you for two drinks, Brown Eyes, but I can bet you he was wrong about that.” he affirmed, smiling at Dan before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Dan smiled, a broken one, but a true smile nonetheless.  
“Thank you.” he spoke, before taking a sip from his glass, eyes still glued to the drink-mixing strangers form.  
  
“Y’know, Brown Eyes, I’ve heard that revenge is a pretty great form of punishment for this sort of thing, unless you’d rather you had someone to talk to while you get pissed, in which case I’m all ears.” Mr Bartender commented offhandedly, adams apple bobbing with the swallow of the drink as fiery his hair.  
“Revenge? What would you propose I do to get revenge?” Dan’s eyelashes fluttered, knowing perfectly well what he wanted.  
“I’m sure it would feel good to give him a taste of his own medicine.” he implied, eyes hungry with desire as they raked across Dan’s features.  
“If you’re offering to help, I’m sure it would feel good in more ways than one. What time do you finish tonight?” he flirted, leaning forward slightly.

  
“I can close up as soon as three if you’d like, babe. I only live upstairs so you could just leave your bag behind the counter.” Mr Bartender breathed out, the look of pure lust drowning the lime of his eyes.  
“Which reminds me, what name should I be screaming out later tonight? I’ve been calling you Mr Bartender all night.” Dan giggled out, the buzz of the alcohol flowing freely through his veins.  
“Dirty mouth, you have Brown Eyes. It’s Adam.”  
“Well, Adam, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dan.”  
  
~~~  
  
“You know,” a voice from behind Dan mused, “You’d think the prettiest boy in the room wouldn’t be sitting all by himself.” he turned to see man slightly older than him, with stunning blue eyes and a black fringe mirroring his own.  
“Good thing you seem eager to fill the place, then.” he flirted back, moving over slightly so the stranger could sit on the stool next to him. He sat down with ease, placing his glass on the bar and turning his body slightly to Dan.  
  
“I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me, but could I buy you a drink? I wasn’t lying when I said you were beautiful.” The stranger leaned slightly, taking in the soft blush that had worked its way up Dan’s neck to sit on his cheekbones.  
“If I let you, will you tell me your name?” he asked, brown eyes hiding behind thick lashes. The stranger grinned, disturbing the butterflies in Dan’s stomach.  
“Phil. My name is Phil.” he said, calling over the bartender.  
“Well, Phil, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dan.”  
  
~~~  
  
As people slowly left the bar, the hungry stares between Dan and Adam grew. As the last group of drunken freshers stumbled out of the dimly lit room at ten to three in the morning, Dan sauntered over to where Adam was absentmindedly wiping down the bar, eyes fixed on the deliberate sway of the brunet's hips.  
“You really are very sexy, Brown Eyes,” Adam confessed, still obviously skimming his eyes over Dan’s whole body.  
“I thought we got rid of the nicknames, Mr Bartender?” he teased, leaning across the bar to brush some hair out of Adam’s eyes before moving his glasses further up his nose. He pushed away the sinking feeling telling him it was far too familiar a gesture.

  
“Well, I’m not opposed to them, per se. Plus, you do have the most gorgeous brown eyes I’ve ever seen.” he mumbled, eyes almost glued to Dan’s.  
“Ahh so you’re a nicknames sort of man, are you? What is it then? Sir? Master? _Daddy?_ ” he teased, placing a kiss to Adam’s jaw with each name, reaching up until he was nibbling his ear.  
  
“I think you need to stop trying to guess my kinks and kiss me, Daniel.” he hummed, wrapping a hand around Dan’s neck in an effort to bring him back to his lips.  
“So you are a dom, telling me what to do with my full name.” Dan giggled, looking up and pretending not to expect a certain shade of cerulean eyes. “I bet you’re so authoritative in bed, you’re going to be ordering me around soon enough.”  
“Mmmmm shut up a kiss me.” he ordered softly, so Dan did.  
  
~~~  
  
The night had gone on long, but it only felt like a heartbeat to Phil. He learned that the gorgeous boy from across the bar’s name was Dan, that he liked Muse and Fall Out Boy, that he was attending Manchester University for law, and that if he let him, Dan could find his way into Phil’s heart and stay there for a long time. He was playful and funny, blushing and flirting with Phil like it was his job, his soft brown eyes raking over his features every chance he got. It was intoxicating. Pulling himself from the intense gaze, he looked around the bar to see most of the people had cleared out without his noticing.  
  
“Oh wow, it’s gotten pretty late. We should probably head out soon.” he said, turning back to see Dan’s face fall slightly.  
“Wow, it has. I guess time flies when you’re having fun.” he replied, sitting up slightly. They finished their drinks, left enough money to cover and walked out in pleasant silence, sharing small smiles when their eyes met. It was cold outside, Phil noticed, seeing the way Dan shivered in the cool wind.  
  
“I, um-” Dan had started to stutter something out before Phil interrupted.  
“Would you like to come back to mine? It’s really close from here, and you’re really funny and gorgeous, and yeah.” Phil cringed at the way he stumbled over the words, watching Dan giggle at his awkwardness before taking a step forward.  
“Will you forget me in the morning if I do?” he whispered, the fear in his eyes betraying his steady tone. Phil leaned in slightly, placing a soft, slow kiss to his lips, arm winding around his small waist. His lips were warm and soft, moving in sync with his own without practice. It seemed to last hours, it wasn’t long enough. Phil finally pulled back, looking into the soft brown eyes in front of him.  
  
“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried.”  
  
~~~  
  
Dan had kissed many people in the past, men and women alike. Some were kisses saying goodbye, some were saying hello, some were fueled by lust or frenzy, and some were sweet and soft, filled with promises of love. Some kisses were just plain wrong, much like the one time with Tyler Oakley that all involved had agreed to pretend never happened. Some kisses were unforgettable, like his first kiss with Phil outside that dingy bar in Manchester.  
  
Somehow, this kiss seemed to be all at once. It was obvious that desire was the reason behind the soft lips dancing against each other, but it was so soft that if he didn’t know what true love’s kiss felt like it could be mistaken for such. When their tongues tangled together, it somehow felt like the only thing right in Dan’s world and yet was still not what he was used to. His brain was constantly changing between screaming _this isn’t Phil_ and reassuring him that this was everything he needed at that moment.  
  
Soon enough the soft kisses turned harsher, more driven and determined, and quickly they were rushing up the stairs in the back room towards Adam’s apartment. Dan soon found himself pushed up against the door to his apartment, fingers sliding under his shirt, skimming across his torso like fire.  
“Isn’t it a bit sleazy to pick up an emotional wreck like me?” Dan muttered, slinging his arms around to Adam’s neck to play with the short hair at the nape.  
“Would you like me to stop?” he murmured, kissing and biting at Dan’s neck as he graciously extended it to make the task easier.  
“God no, never stop.” he choked, followed almost by a whine as Adam bit particularly hard on a certain sensitive spot just under his jaw and left ear.  
  
“Sensitive neck, eh? I wonder what else is sensitive…” his hand slowly trailed down until it hit Dan’s nipples, rubbing and flicking. On one particular hit of the sensitive nub he also bit roughly down onto his neck, eliciting a loud groan from the man slowly falling apart under his touch.  
“Da-mmmm,” he nearly called out, stopping himself and turning it into a moan.  
“What was that, baby boy? What did you nearly call me?” Adam whispered in his ear, slowly grinding his knee into Dan’s crotch.  
  
“I-I’ve never… Only ever with…” he choked out, breathlessly trying to explain himself.  
“Only with him huh?” he asked, hands still roaming around Dan’s body. “His new little slut probably moaned out to your daddy for hours, Daniel. The neighbours probably thought it was you screaming out to your daddy, but it was really that other man. He might be your only daddy, but how many baby boys do you think he’s claimed as his own?” his harsh whisper started the ball rolling in Dan’s head. How many times has Phil cheated before? Has the entire week been spent with that man, or was it multiple men? His mind was set. This was something he had to do.  
  
“Will you be a good daddy?” he murmured, still scared at the consequence of these choices.  
“The best, kitten. Wouldn’t dream of letting you down.” Adam’s kisses turned from harsh and lustful to soft, peppering over his cheeks and nose. His hands moved moved from trapping Dan against his door to caressing his sides and running featherlight touches through his hair. It was exactly what Dan needed to be reassured that this was the right choice he was making.  
  
~~~  
  
The time was edging closer to five am with every one of Dan’s straying thoughts, the cold silence of a stranger's kitchen the only constant he could find in his troubled mind. He had left the comfort of Adam’s warm bed almost exactly half an hour after his host had fallen asleep, not wanting to lie in the new man’s arms any longer. At first Dan considered leaving, but he soon shut down that idea after realising the only place he could go was back home, and then what would he say to Phil? _Oh hi Phil, yeah I just had sex with a random bartender because I was mad and slightly drunk, but I’m back now because he had the same glasses as you and I couldn’t bare looking at them on his bedside table any longer, how’s your night been?_ For some reason, he just couldn’t see that being a feasible option.  
  
So he sat, alone and slightly cold, on the grey tiles of someone else’s kitchen with a half empty glass of water sitting beside him, twisting the ring on his fourth finger. It was strange, how much context could be held in just a silly bit of silver, how much promise and hope just looking at it gave, or _used_ to give. Now it just makes Dan feel dirty. There was no noise around him, only the ticking of the clock above the unlit fireplace, and the occasional loud hooligan passing by. It was background noise enough though, as it reminded Dan that the world would continue on despite of his problems and woes. The drunken man walking down the street doesn’t care about his crumbled marriage, the waking ducks in the lake don’t worry about if Dan has a pair of warm arms to spend the night in, nor do they care if Phil’s were filled by another. The early morning joggers and cyclists wouldn’t waste a second contemplating what a night spent between Adam’s sheets means for Dan, or if it makes him as much at fault as Phil or not. No, the universe will always keep spinning on, whether Dan and Phil split or make up. He learnt almost exactly four years ago that it doesn’t stop for something as silly as a broken heart. But then again, the situation four years ago didn’t leave Dan feeling existential and in anguish in a stranger's kitchen.  
  
His mind kept replaying the situation from earlier last night, though it felt like days ago. The fear he had felt, the absolute gut-wrenching heartbreak that followed he he walked into the kitchen. It’s always something that you worry about, not being enough for your other half, but Dan never actually thought that Phil would be the type of guy to cheat. His words from earlier last night echoed through his mind; _Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be making out with another boy if you acted like you actually loved me every once in awhile!_ Dan couldn’t lie, that stung. Did he show that he loved Phil enough? Sure, the tour had been a lot of pressure, and maybe Dan had a habit of regressing into himself and not paying attention to the people around him whenever he got stressed, but Phil knew the Dan loved him, right?  
  
His isolation was soon broken by the soft footfalls that were steadily coming towards him.  
“Oh. I thought you had gone back to Phil.” Adam spoke, stepping past Dan to get himself a glass of water too. His crooked glasses and scruffy hair was far too familiar but Dan pushed those thoughts away, scooting over so Adam could sit next to him.

  
“How did you know his name was Phil?” he asked, worry suddenly flooding his conscious. Was this some fan he had just slept with? Did he know them from the radio show? Would he post about Dan and Phil’s broken relationship now that he knew all the tasty details? Did he only comfort Dan to get him into bed?  
“You said his name. A lot.” Adam said it like it was the most simple answer (it was) and it didn’t mean a thing (it did). Dan’s inner torment must have been obvious on his face, as he was quick to chuckle and add, “Don’t worry, I’m not offended or anything. I’m just a guy from a bar, if I had a husband that I loved I would probably yell out his name during sex too.”  
  
Dan sighed and dropped his head onto the shoulder next to him. This was all getting too complicated. He just wanted to be home, in Phil’s arms, safe and sound from all the perils and dramas of the world. _Phil_. Even his name sounded unattainable now, in a void lost to Dan’s grasp. Maybe… maybe it would have been easier to not care. It couldn't have done too much damage, just moving on with their lives. He did look remorseful when Dan barged in. Maybe just going to bed was the right thing to do in that situation, instead of finding an Irish Phil look-alike to spend the night with. Dan turned to look at Adam, sitting silently next to him in the early morning pre-sunrise light. He really was a gorgeous man, but it wasn’t right. His nose was too button-like, and his face wasn’t thin enough. His hair was too high off his head, and far too red. His glasses were too thick around his eyes, eyes where the balance between green and blue was so out, it wasn’t even close.  
  
Yes, Adam could be a model if he wanted, but he wasn’t perfect. Perfection was a raven fringe, and ocean eyes, and a tongue poking out when he laughed, and lazy cuddles on sunday mornings. Perfection was empty cereal boxes and delicate fingers, it was slightly ascue teeth, and light pink lips, and the pale brown freckles that decorated his collar bones. Perfection was warm hugs and soft kisses and an infectious smile. It was cuddles on the couch while watching an anime, it was chinese takeout and giggling at stupid movies. Perfection was a marriage amongst the cherry blossoms of Japan and long nights spent under the sheets together in a haze of pure bliss every time. Perfection was Phil Lester, in every sense of the word, but…  
  
He couldn’t be perfect.  
  
Perfection wouldn’t cheat and break Dan’s heart.  
  
Right?  
  
~~~  
  
_~ Approximately 8 hours ago ~_  
  
Phil didn’t know how he found himself in a tavern overlooking a lake, but there he was. He took a drink of the beer he ordered from the ginger man behind the counter, and winced at it’s bitter taste. He normally wasn’t the type of guy to drink a beer, but right now he couldn’t think of touching anything that even remotely reminded him of Dan. Despite his best efforts, his spinning mind was drawn back to thoughts of the beautiful boy, anxiously jumping to conclusions like it had been all week. Dan had unexpectedly left to visit his parents on Monday, leaving Phil alone to deal with his winding mind and scattered perception. They had barely talked since they got back from America, and Dan never visited his parents for so long at a time, let alone out of the blue. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering why he chose to leave for so long. What had Phil done wrong? Had he done something to annoy Dan? Was he finally seeing how useless Phil was? Had he finally cracked and couldn’t pretend to love Phil anymore? Maybe he was planning to leave once and for all, finally giving up on their teen-movie romance.  
  
Either way, Phil’s anxious mind had come to the final decision that when Dan came back he was going to leave him, there was no way around it. As he finished his beer, another was pushed towards him by the tall ginger. He looked up curiously, tilting his head slightly in question.  
“From that man over there, with the green jumper. Said ‘is name was Logan.” the bartenders smooth Irish accent stated, before moving along to serve more people around the bar.  
  
Phil looked over to where the bartender gestured, making eye contact with a man across the bar. His light brown hair was pushed to the right side in a sort of curled quiff. His pastel green sweater looked too big, but gave this mystery man a look of soft innocence, and complimented his stormy eyes well, but he couldn’t pick their exact shade from this distance. Maybe this was the universe's was of telling Phil to let Dan go, giving him another beautiful boy to distract himself from the impending heartbreak. Maybe this ‘Logan’ could be Phil’s new sweetheart, or maybe he could just keep his bed warm for the night.  
  
~~~  
  
Phil was never really one for one night stands or hook-ups after his wild days, he found it hard to have such an intimate and sensual moment with someone he didn’t share a bond with. He knew that before he and Dan were an item Dan had many encounters, with boys and girls, but Phil could never understand how it was so easy for him to jump from partner to partner. He tried to explain it once, saying ‘with you it’s passion, it’s love, with them it was fucking.’ Maybe Phil was just old fashioned, but he just couldn’t think of himself with anyone other than a lover, or at least a friend.  
  
~~~  
  
“I-uh hi. You sent this drink over to me? Logan?” Phil stumbled awkwardly over his words, scratching at the back of his neck. He was already regretting leaving his seat, wanting nothing more to go back home and drink away his sadness, maybe call up Tyler or Pj and cry a bit, and probably pass out watching his Buffy box set.That was what Phil knew, it was what he was good at. Possibly taking home a boy from a bar, well, he hasn’t done that in seven years.  
“Oh yeah I did! I hope I didn’t misread anything, you just looked lonely and I thought I could keep you company.” the new man commented shyly, turning to completely face Phil. He had a smooth American accent, like a cool splash of water. It was new, different. He wasn’t sure if that was good yet.  
  
“Oh. Well, thank you. I’m Phil, by the way.” he sat down on the stool next to Logan’s, positioning himself so they could talk to each other easily. He wasn’t drunk enough for this.  
“So Phil, what brings a gorgeous man like you down to an east-side London pup on a warm Thursday night?” Logan looked up at Phil from under his eyelashes, leaning against the bar. He _definitely_ wasn’t drunk enough for this.  
“Would it be the wrong move to say heartbreak?” Phil asked, sipping diligently to remove all similarities between two brown-haired boys. Staring into those two stormy orbs and trying to decide what shade they were helped to distract him immensely. 

“Who could ever bear to break your heart?” Logan questioned, leaning slightly forward. Phil debated for a second whether telling this mystery man he met at a bar not ten minutes ago, but he seemed to not recognise Phil, so maybe a bit of emotional venting would be safe.  
“My husband, if you would believe. I think… I think he’s going to leave me.” He admitted, pushing up his glasses slightly, willing his eyes not to leak. “I’m sorry, this probably wasn’t why you bought me a drink.”  
  
“No no, don’t be sorry, you’re upset. I would be too, if I thought that my husband was going to leave me.” Logan’s voice was soft and understanding, as his pale hand came down to sit on Phil’s knee, rubbing circles in a comforting, flirtatious manner. “ Would you like to talk about it, or would you like to not think about it at all?” he asked, a genuine look in his gaze. While it was a simple enough question, it felt loaded with directions and options. Should he do what he came over to this side of the bar for, and see where it takes him, or should Phil use this obvious out that has been given to him. Maybe it was the universe talking to him again, telling him to take this new option, or maybe it was giving him another chance to think through what going through with this plan would be in the grand scheme of things. Or maybe it was just telling him to stop relying on an impossible supernatural force and make his own damn decisions for once.

Whatever this option was meant to represent, he would never know, as his voice was interrupting and choosing itself.  
“I’d like to buy you a drink, if only as payment for mine.” Phil’s voice was steady, sure, determined. He didn’t know where he learnt to lie so damn well.  
  
It was obviously the answer Logan wanted, as his eyes lit up and his whole demeanour changed from friendly and comforting to one with an obvious intention. It wasn’t as terrifying if Phil focused on the gleam in those turquoise (turquoise? He still hadn’t made his mind up) orbs and the flecks of gold light reflecting off his mousy hair.  
“Well, I am quite partial to these mojitos, if you would be so kind.” Logan giggled lightly, his eyelashes dancing across his cheek.

  
“Well what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t oblige?” he shot a smirk at the boy across from him and raised his head to catch the barman's attention. All concept of consequence was lost to Phil at that moment, only caring about the surge of adrenaline that came with courting someone, mixed in a dangerous cocktail with the innuendo of his main goal and raising blood alcohol level.  
  
~~~  
  
One drink soon turned into two, then three, and soon enough they were giggling in a cab on their way back to Phil’s place. It was a whirlwind from the bar to the taxi to the flat, but every second of it felt like heaven on crack. He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt like this with Dan, or the last time he’d been so happy. Maybe it was just the roaming hands and the warped perception, but everything felt so much _better_ with Logan. It was a game, almost, trying to rile each other up as much as possible without actually snogging in the backseat of a taxi. Soon though they didn’t need to worry, as the cab pulled up in front of Phil’s building. They leapt out of the car, Logan throwing money at the driver, before rushing inside the flat.  
  
As Phil struggles to unlock the door, Logan’s hands find their way around his waist, and his mouth finds itself underneath his ear, nipping softly then kissing to alleviate any pain.  
“You’ll have to stop that if you want me to open this door anytime soon.” Phil gritted out, his shaking hands and staccato breath betraying his cold demeanour.  
“But babe, how could I ignore such a,” a kiss was planted further down his neck. “Beautiful,” kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss. “Neck like this?” his hot breath ghosted across Phil’s cheek, as Logan finished his trail to suck lightly on the junction between his neck and jugular.  
“Give me five minutes and you can suck something much better than my neck, princess.” Phil’s tone was suddenly different, harsher, more commanding. The pet name rolled off his tongue, almost unintentional as he slipped into his dominant personality.  
  
“Oh, so you are a dom then? Thank god, I was scared I had to take control tonight.” Logan joking shuddered at the thought, while Phil just chuckled and opened the door. He walked in, and while it felt vaguely wrong to not have Dan next to him, rambling about one thing or another, that thought was dimmed by the presence of Logan. His searing eyes (a greeny aqua with blue and golden flecks, he had finally decided) and static touches only enhanced the numbing of the alcohol, effectively killing any second thoughts or regrets. They raced up the stairs together, till they got to Phil’s bedroom, where Logan was pushed against the door, harsh and unforgiving lips against his own.  
  
Phil nipped and licked his lips, each touch like a passionate fire. His mouth wandered down to nip at his neck. Somehow, he was disappointed when the reaction wasn’t as immense as he was expecting. It left a hollowness he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he was too far gone to care too much. As he continued leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down Logan’s collar bones, Phil walked them towards his bed, before pushing him down onto the patchwork bed cover. A small whine was let out of Logan’s mouth, just one word;  
“Daddy,” it came out as more of a breath than anything, but it was enough to send Phil’s mind reeling. Suddenly all the memories of times before came flooding back. Pictures filled with a different but very familiar brunette were overtaking his thoughts, spread out on that very bed, saying the same thing, calling out for Phil the same way. It was all too much.  
  
He stumbled back, hitting the TV cabinet. His breathing was erratic, and suddenly everything was filling with the memories of Dan. He could smell him in the air, he could see all of his things in the room, it was almost screaming at him that Dan should be here. Phil finally tore his eyes back to the bed, where Logan was sitting cross-legged and saying something to him, head tilted to the side in confusion, but he couldn’t hear. He had seen that before. It was nearly right, but it was too different to be perfect. He couldn’t speak or hear what was being said to him, all he could do was sink down to the floor and concentrate on was the memory replaying in his head.  
  
~~~  
  
“Did you bring the questions?” Dan asked, sitting cross-legged on their (Phil’s according to their viewers) bed waiting for Phil to arrive.  
“You act like this is my first time doing this.” he scoffed, moving to sit down next this his husband. Their matching silver wedding bands were sitting off to the side on their bedside table, out of shot of the camera. It was alway the worst part of filming, but until they took that step, it was a necessary evil. Once they were both settled on the green and blue bed, Dan moved to press record on the camera.  
“Ready babe? Pre-filming kiss?” he suggested, grabbing the Sharpie pen.  
“Are you really gonna keep calling it that?” Phil replied incredulously but leant in to peck his lips nonetheless.  
“Force of habit, now stop being a hater and let’s do this.” Dan’s smile was infectious, and Phil had to compose himself before he could continue.  
“Here we go.” Phil announced to the camera in the most intimidating and deep movie-announcer-voice he could muster, while Dan did a silly pen dance. The filming went on similarly, more about having fun and joking around than any of their other videos ever are. They truly were times - and videos - that Dan and Phil would never forget.  
  
~~~  
  
“Hey, hey it’s ok. Just breathe, yeah? You’re safe, calm down.” a vaguely familiar voice whispered calmly, rubbing up and down Phil’s back in a comforting manner. He only realised he was sobbing when the salty tears started filling his mouth.  
“Can… can we go to the lounge or something? I don’t wanna be in here…” Phil asked almost pathetically, mortified at how the night had gone. He was meant to _forget_ Dan for the night, not bring home a Dan look-a-like then have a panic attack when he sat on the fucking bed. He really was pathetic, no wonder Dan wanted rid of him.  
“Sure, let’s go. I’ll even make you a cup of tea.” Logan patiently helped the quivering Phil off the floor and into the lounge down the hall, before he moved to find the kitchen and the supplies to make two cups of tea. Soon enough the kettle was boiled, and they had both sat down in the uncomfortably silent lounge.  
  
“Sorry I freaked out on you back there, I don’t know what got into me.” Phil apologised still embarrassed that this (incredibly attractive) stranger had to see his little episode. “I realise that this isn’t how you wanted your night to go, so you can leave if you would like, I won’t make you stay.” he tentatively took a sip of his tea, silently hoping that Logan wouldn’t actually leave, because really, he could use some company right now. “I’ll stay for my tea, then we can see what happens.” Logan smiled up at Phil, obvious pity staining his features. “And don’t be embarrassed by anxiety, I’ve had my fair share, trust me.” They sat comfortably after that, just enjoying the late night silence. Logan looked around the small but homely lounge, taking in all it’s decorations. Curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up to get a better look.  
  
“Is this your husband?” he asked, looking at the framed picture of Dan and his old dog, Colin.  
“Yeah. his name is Dan.” Phil responded, smiling at the memory of when he went to Dan’s house the first time, Colin excitedly running to greet them at the door, warily eyeing Phil, sniffing him up and down before he finally decided that he was a good human, and licking his hand and trotting back to his bed at the end of the hall. They wanted a dog when they moved to London, but it was either the bigger apartment or a shitty one with a dog. Much to Dan’s protest, they chose the former.

  
“He’s gorgeous. He looks happy.” Logan just smiled at the little yellow picture frame, the sat down on the grey sofa.  
“He was, sometimes. Mostly with that silly dog.” Phil giggled.  
“I bet you make him happy, or at least made him happy.” he said softly, looking over at the blue-eyed man with a new-found fondness in his gaze.  
  
“Can I tell you a secret?” Phil spoke up, breaking the calm quiet that had settled over the room. When Logan nodded, he reached around the couch to behind the side table, bringing out a half empty bottle of gin. “You probably already figured this out, seeing as you met me in a bar,” he noted, popping the top before pouring a generous shot and a half into the mug. “But sometimes, tea just isn’t strong enough for me.”  
  
~~~  
  
  
Back in university, it was just casual drinking. Out with his mates, needing a reason to forget the last boy he spent the night with, or all of the pointless information he crammed for the last exam. It was nothing to be concerned about, every 20 year old got pissed on the weekend, it didn’t matter that soon he was the only one hiding in the dim lights of the grimy campus tavern.  
  
Then, _he_ died. His roommate, best friend, and secret lover, even if he knew that Phil didn’t feel the same. It was unexpected, it was sudden, it wasn’t what he was supposed to find in his room after a night on the town. They all told him that it wasn’t a suicide, it was an honest accident, but he knew better than to believe them.The void in his life was quickly filled with dangerous mixers of guilt, anxiety, and tequila (or vodka, or gin, or whiskey. Whichever was easier to down that night.) People started expressing their worry, but they didn’t understand, they couldn’t! They couldn’t know what could've changed if maybe he wasn’t so selfish that night, if Phil forced himself to feel the same, or if he stopped sleeping with him after he found out that his other half didn’t follow the ‘friends’ part of their deal.  
  
Soon enough, the water bottle he carried with him everywhere didn’t have water in it, his bottom drawer hid it’s own liquor store, and his alcohol content was constantly fighting with his sadness for the top place of things-that-make-up-Phil-Lester. When he wasn’t drunk or depressed he was lashing out at his family, his friends, anyone who would put up with him really. At the request of his mother, Phil saw a psychologist to help his new behaviour. All he gained was a slip of paper listing fancy words like _trauma onset depression and anxiety disorders_ and _alcohol use disorder (dependence)_. He didn’t show up to the follow-up appointments.  
  
Somehow he finished his degree, moved away from York and back to Manchester, tried to cut back on his drinking, and met an insecure brunette with eyes that twinkled golden in the sunlight. This new boy was a little younger, a little shyer, but was absolutely perfect nonetheless. Phil was falling quickly out of love with his addiction and in love with this new boy with big dreams and an even bigger smile. So he did what he thought was right; stopped buying his comfort from a bottle, and started finding it in the warm arms of the boy who loved him, and he finally loved back.  
  
Well, most of his comfort. There was still the bottle under his bed, and the one at the bottom of his tv cabinet, and the little one hiding behind his houseplant. But it was still an improvement, right?  
  
~~~  
  
Just as promised, Logan stayed until he had finished his tea, but when Phil offered to share some of his bottled coping mechanism, he didn’t object either. Whether it was because he still wanted to spend the night, or for the free alcohol, Phil really didn’t care. He soon convinced Logan to trade the gin for a rosé at the back of the fridge, and not long after the second glass made it’s smooth way down the nights flirting reached an all-time high. It wasn’t long before the prolonged gazes and lingering touches turned into soft kisses and wandering hands, and Logan only pulled away once he had straddle Phil’s lap.  
“Do you want this? Like, are you gonna freak out of me again.” His stare was scrutinising as his arms ran across Phil’s shoulders comfortingly. “I would very much like to sleep with you tonight, but I don’t want to cause you another panic attack.”  
  
“I won’t freak out, I promise. I just wasn’t expecting you to call me that, that’s all.” Phil explained, smiling reassuringly. Logan looked confused for a moment, but then his features evened out.  
“Oh right, that. I’m sorry, you just seemed the type that wouldn’t mind that I like that, but it’s ok.” he remarked, looking slightly offended.  
“No no, normally I like that too. It’s just that Dan… He calls me that and it was just suddenly too real. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Phil slid his hands up and down Logan’s sides, placing kisses against his collar bones and neck.  
“Oh. Ok then. Would you like me to call you that?” he asked, sighing slightly and tilting his neck to make the task easier.  
  
“Maybe. We’ll see once we get to the bedroom, which we could get to right now if you’d kindly get off me. Not that I don’t love your gorgeous ass in my lap.” Phil muttered against Logan’s neck, moving his hands down to squeeze at his ass to prove his point.  
“I bet you could carry me, you definitely have muscles hiding under this button-up.” he giggled, threading his fingers through the black hair. Phil lifted his eyebrows, looking in disbelief at Logan, who just giggled again and placed a soft kiss on his lips.  
“Please?” he whispered, soft and blown-out eyes staring at Phil pleadingly from under his lashes. He always was a sucker for a doe-eyed stare.  
“Wrap your legs around me, tight. If I drop you, it’s not my fault, alright? Bloody spoiled boys, all the same” he muttered, but his smile made his already soft tone much less intimidating. Logan just peppered kisses over his face, murmuring small ‘thank you’s as Phil trodded to his bedroom.  
  
~~~  
“Wow.” Logan panted, laying flat on the bed trying to get his breath back.  
“Same.” Phil sighed, pushing his head back into the pillow. The post-coital bliss was still coursing through veins, the full consequence of his actions wasn't yet apparent. He turned his head to the side, looking over at the sweaty and ruffed up form of his paramour for the night.  
“You give really good blow jobs, you know that?” Phil commented, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Logan’s eyes. The brunet just giggled, rolling over.  
“Well you’re not the first to compliment me on those skills.” he confided, placing a slow kiss against Phil’s lips. As they pulled away, their eyes met. It was far too soft of a gaze, filled with questions unwilling to be asked, and answer neither of them wanted to hear.  
  
Phil scrambled up from the comfortable bubble they had created in the used sheets. “I’m going to go make myself a coffee, would you like anything?” he picked up his boxers from the floor, obviously strewn without care earlier in the night. If Phil knew Logan better he would be able to place the solemn look on his face as hurt, or maybe if he wasn’t itching to think about what had happened just then, but he didn’t know Logan at all, so it just looked as if he was thinking about his answer.  
“No, thank you. Maybe in a bit, I just need to catch my breath.” he smiled up at Phil, then looked to the ceiling again. Phil left the room, not at all paying attention to anything but his wandering mind.  
  
The kitchen was far too bright, far too white, and far too familiar. He used to see those silly walrus and seal figurines and laugh, now they just make him feel like a dirty, infidelious, villain. That’s all he is, so it would make sense he feels guilty. Phil wasn’t like this, he wasn’t! No, he was kind, and caring, and thoughtful, and he helped people, right? Can you still be a good person if you do something that could totally break someone and destroy their life? Would this really hurt him that much to find out about, or would it just cement a prior made decision?

A few days ago most of these questions could be answered rather easily. It was an odd feeling, questioning the decisions that lead to that moment in time. Was this what an existential crisis felt like? It certainly was similar, the only difference was Phil was sitting on the kitchen floor, trying to make himself as small as possible, where Dan would just fall where he stood, not caring about something as pointless as the placement of his limbs. Is this where they differed in personality? In a time of crisis Phil shrunk in himself and turned to immediate gratification of his lust, where Dan let his thoughts overtake any other desire or need in his life. Then again, Dan’s straying mind could always be blamed on his faulty genes, while Phil’s was born solely from guilt every time.  
  
Did Dan truly still love him? It was impossible to know anymore, it seemed so clear earlier that night. Now the guilt of breaking his marital vows had set in, Phil felt the whole situation was just a blur of faults and balmes. _Marriage is just a piece of paper if you’re unhappy._ Was he unhappy? Was Dan unhappy? Phil didn’t know what was true and what was false anymore, he obviously couldn’t trust his own mind, yet it was his only friend to turn to once again in his life.  
  
Almost as if he could hear Phil’s thoughts, Logan’s soft footfalls came into the kitchen, knocking the intrusive thoughts aside to wait for another time to pollute his mind.  
“I thought you were making coffee?” his voice was soft, caring enough to keep Phil from jumping. It was caring, sure, but it wasn’t Dan.  
“I didn’t get that far, got a bit distracted.” he let his mouth curve into a small smile that didn’t even dream of reaching his eyes. Logan reached his hand down to help Phil up, pulling him off of the cold floor.  
“You need to stop thinking about him, it’s not going to do you any good.” Logan reprimanded, intertwining his fingers with Phil’s and brushing his hair to one side. It felt like hollow advice, how could he not think of Dan?  
“Have you ever been in love, Logan? Do you know heart break?” Phil wondered, looking up to the warm opal eyes.  
“Only once. I told her I was bi, and she told me that she could never love a fag and left. I don’t know how your heart break would feel, but that certainly stung for a good long time.” he sighed, moving his hand to where Phil’s phone was on the counter top.  
  
“Unlock this for me?” he requested, wrapping a hand around Phil’s waist.  
“Why?” Phil asked, but unlocked the device anyway, ignoring the background of the phone - a picture Dan took of them, cuddled together with Phil’s lips on his cheek.  
“So that if you need me to distract you later, you have my number.” he put down the phone, wrapping his other arm around his waist. “And when you need distraction now, I can do this.” Logan pressed his lips against Phil’s softly, soft pecks decorating his pink lips. It was easy to get lost in Logan’s touch, his hands heavy around Phil’s waist, his body pressed against Phil’s. It was all lovely. As Phil tangled his fingers through Logan’s wavy hair, he deepened the kiss, running his tongue over his lips, asking for entrance.  
  
Dimly, almost as if it was in the corner of his mind, Phil heard the sound of the door opening. He was far too distracted for it to register though, as Logan’s hands had found their way to his ass and his lips had found their way to his neck, nipping softly. _That’s funny_ he thought as his hands roamed over Logan’s bare back to the curve of his waist _that almost sounded like Dan_. Phil chalked it up to guilt, and pushed it from his mind. It was far less important than hand that found its way to palming his crotch. Phil couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips, his hands gripping harder, trying to pull Logan closer.  
  
The sound of glass breaking shocked him out of Logan’s arms, turning to see a livid, enraged Dan at the doorway of the kitchen.  
“Phil. Who the fuck is that?”

 


End file.
